The Christmas Shoes
by Blithe Novelties
Summary: "But it's Christmas!" the younger blonde protested, stamping his foot, arms crossed over his chest. "You're supposed to help people on Christmas!" Human AU, based off of Newsong's song by the same name


**AN: While it certainly starts off with Arthur, he is not the main character of this story. Human AU based off of Newsong's song, "The Christmas Shoes"**

**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya**

**"The Christmas Shoes" belongs to Newsong**

APH: The Christmas Shoes:

The small shop was filled with people getting in their last minute shopping before it was closing time, either due to procrastination, or simply because they were not able to find the perfect gift until now. Not that it mattered to Arthur Kirkland, the owner...and the store's only clerk; quite frankly, he wished they would all hurry up and get their gifts so he could head off before his brothers drank all of the eggnog. "It's too late for that now," he grumbled, picking up his thermos of hot cocoa; the blonde opened it, took a swig, then scowled, as it had gone much too cold to be enjoyed any more.

His eyes scanned the area, studying the shoppers that milled about the shop that had been handed down through the generations of the Kirkland family, occasionally darting towards the door as the jingling of bells announced a new arrival, being sure to plant a smile on his face-albeit a strained one-and wish them a "Happy Holidays", before going back to working the register.

During another scan of the shop, one particular customer had caught his eye, that of a young, blonde boy scanning the shelves of men's shoes. It was Peter, he knew, his little brother by blood, but one who did not live with him (nor with their other brothers, or with their mother); the fact was...either each one of the brothers-whom were grown when the youngest Kirkland was born-were too poor, too busy, or too much of both to care for him, and it was the same for their mother. Hence why they put him up for adoption...and, as far as Arthur knew, Peter's family were loving and wonderful enough; even buying a dog for the boy for his birthday, despite having money troubles themselves. Or, at least so Arthur'd been told-unlike his mother and his brothers, he had never once gone to visit them.

"Wonder where the gents are now...? They shouldn't be letting a child like him roam around without adult supervision..." He knew why they wouldn't be at the store with him, though. When you were in a small town like this one, everyone knew about things like this.

**XxX**

_If any night could be described as being the sterotypical Christmas Eve, it would be tonight..._

Snowflakes, gently falling from the sky piled ontop of previously fallen snow, creating a "blanket" that was going through the process of being trampled flat by footprints, only to have them covered by new snow...and once again disturbed by those still out and about; afterwards, new snow covered the damage, and the cycle started anew with fresh footprints, then new snow, and so on.

Multicolored Christmas lights twinkled from the front of many a store, staining the snow various hues of reds, greens, yellows, blues... All in all, it was a very comforting, jolly atmosphere. "Much too jolly, if you ask me," Alfred muttered, ducking in through the doorway of _Kirkland & Sons _ (though, as the paint was chipped and worn from years of being exposed to the elements, it actually read: _Kiklason_); the American pulled at the hem of his shirt, just enough that it barely peeked out from under his coat, as to wipe his glasses off.

"Okay, so I just have to get in, grab some hot chocolate, then I can get out of h-" Once he could see clearly again, he took one glance around the store, a curse rising to his throat. It seemed as if the last minute holiday shoppers were _really_ pushing it this year; it was fifteen minutes until closing time and the place was still packed.

_And when I didn't think it was possible to dislike Christmas any more, _elbowing past the crowds of people, while shouting a few apologies along the way, Alfred made his way towards the area of assorted hot chocolates, coffees, teas, and the like.

For a while now, the bespectaled man hadn't cared too much for Christmas, not since he was a child; once you were an adult, the holiday kind of lost its magic, to be honest, once you realized that there was no Santa who gave gifts to all of the world's children and that it was really just your parents who bought, wrapped, and placed the gifts under the tree. That most kids couldn't even afford a tree, much less presents. That many people spent Christmas alone. That in reality, all of the Holiday specials and carols and glittering decorations and, not to mention, the newest "must have" objects of the season, were really just to promote commercialism. And it was kind of depressing.

_Just get your hot chocolate and get out of here, Al...you don't need to spend any more time with these deluded folk than you have to..._

**XxX**

Alfred resisted the urge to tap his foot to show his impatience-after all, one person was just gathering his items to leave, and there was only one other person in front of him...and with one item at that; it was a young boy, probably about eight or so, and, if the man could guess correctly, was Arthur's younger brother, or more correctly,Tino and Berwald's boy. _Huh...wonder why no one's with the kid..._

Peter, standing on his tiptoes, placed the box, with money that he had saved up (probably from doing odd jobs like walking someone's dogs, watering another person's plants, and the like) stacked on the lid, and pushed it towards a very weary looking Arthur, a hopeful smile on his face. The Englishman began counting the money, muttering the totals under his breath. With a sigh, he rubbed at his temples before dropping his green eyed gaze at the youngster. "Peter, I'm sorry, but you fall short about ten dollars. I'm afraid you can't afford these shoes..."

"What?" the hopeful look crashed, quickly replaced by one of despair. "B-but...but I...you _must _ have counted wrong! _You must have! _I have to get these shoes-Mama's always wanted them...and Papa...Papa..." Peter sniffled, beginning to cry. "Papa says Mama doesn't have much time left...that...that Jesus is gonna take him away. _Please," _ his voice trembled, as he wiped at his tears.

_Oh...yeah...that's right..._ Alfred shifted his box of hot chocolate packets uncomfortably, biting his tongue to keep from saying anything.

Another sigh. "Look, Peter, I'm sorry...you simply don't have en-"

"You don't care about Mama, do you?! You don't care about me...or Papa, or or or _Hana!_ You don't even visit us or send postcards or nothing! You only care about yourself, you..you...you _jerk!" _ If those remaining in the store hadn't been paying attention, they certainly were now; all eyes were on the two Kirkland brothers.

"Erm..." the elder of the two turned bright red, cleared his throat, before shouting to the onlookers, "No...no need to worry! Just...just a minor...misunderstanding!" A nervous laugh escaped his throat. "Now, listen here," his voice lowered as he turned back to Peter, becoming more menacing with each syllable. "You. Do. _Not. _Have. Enough. Money. And while I am sorry about your..."Mama", I cannot allow you to take these-might I add, _expensive-_shoes out of this store, when you have ten dollars less than what is asked for. That simply, is against the law."

"But it's Christmas!" the younger blonde protested, stamping his foot, arms crossed over his chest. "You're supposed to help people on Christmas!"

"Yes, I know but-"

"Don't you agree, mister?" Without warning, Peter had spun around, and was staring at Alfred anxiously. "Shouldn't people help each other on Christmas?"

"Uh..." Alfred blinked; having been caught offguard, he had no clue as to what he should say. "Um..." Peter's blue eyes were begging him to be on his side, while Arthur's look clearly warned his friend not to let the child go on believing he could have whatever he wanted, when he wanted...despite not having enough to pay for it.

_"...Please..." _ the child whispered. "It's Christmas..."

"I'll tell you what, I'll pay for your shoes. He needs ten dollars, right?" the American asked, searching through his wallet.

Peter's face lit up, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you, mister!"

"Oh Alfred, you shouldn't have to pay for the shoes. In my opinion, Peter needs to learn not to beg for money from people he doesn't-"

"Nah, don't worry bro...it's all good..." he grinned, handing over the money needed. "It's Christmas, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes, I _suppose..."_

"Here you go, buddy," Alfred winking, handed Peter the box. "And a Merry Christmas to you, your Mama, Papa, and Hana."

"Thank you sir! And Merry Christmas!" with his face all a glow, the boy dashed out of the shop and into the snow.

"Well then, now that that is all over, I suppose you'll be wanting to buy this, correct?" Arthur nodded to the box that Alfred had placed onto the counter while he searched through his wallet.

"You know what...I think I'll be fine without it..." There was just something about seeing a child so happy to be able to get a gift for someone they truly cared about that warmed him from the inside out. "...Hey, you need any help with the last customers?"

"I'll be fine...I'm about ready to chase them all out anyway. Go on home and do whatever it is you do on Christmas Eve," the bushybrowed male shooed him out. "Oh...and thank you...for helping Peter pay for the shoes...I know I should have just let him have them, but money's tight and-"

"Eh...whatever you say. Merry Christmas, Arthur...you Scrooge," grinning, the taller of the two made his way to the door, only stopping to turn and wave his hand in farewell.

Arthur snorted, though a grin mirroring Alfred's was on his face, "bah humbug."

Alfred left the shop in much better spirits than he had when he had entered.

**XxX**

"Mama, Papa, I'm home!" came after the door opened, revealing a snow covered, shivering Peter clutching something to his chest. The sudden noise woke Hanatamgo who had been sleeping beside Tino for the last few hours; barking excitedly, she raced to greet her young master.

"..Mama...? Papa?" his dog at his heels, Peter entered his parents's room, the joy at having been able to get the shoes his Mama wanted replaced by the hard hitting reality that he probably wouldn't last the night.

Tino, pale and sickly, laying in bed with the covers up to his chin, turned to look at his newest visitor; Berwald sitting on the edge, his strong hand gripping Tino's fragile one (as if he were afraid that any moment would be the other's last), didn't even bother to look up.

"Pete...Peter...what were you...doing without a coat...you'll...you'll catch a chill..." Each word Tino spoke was laced with pain, and each breath was the kind of sucking-rattle that was too be expected in movies...not in real life. Not here. Not now. Not to kind, cheerful Tino.

"I was at the store, Mama...Arthur's store...I got you these..." his voice growing quieter the longer he spoke, it was at a whisper before he'd finished and held out the box; Peter's gaze dropped downwards.

"What...? Oh Peter...you didn't..."

"It's the shoes you wanted Mama," when he looked up again, his eyes were wet with fresh tears. "I got the shoes you wanted...I...I saved up for them...so...s-so you could look beautiful when you went to go meet Jesus..."

"Peter..." Tino smiled, tears coming to his own eyes, "You...you are the best son...anyone...could have asked for..."

The boy shuffled closer to the bed, "Papa? Can you...can you help me put Mama's shoes on? ...Please?"

**XxX**

"How do I look?" the Finnish man managed a weak smile.

"You look beautiful, Mama."

"Like 'n angel," Berwald nodded, leaning down to kiss his love on the forehead.

"I am...so lucky...to...to have you both...I...I love you..."

"I love you too Mama..." Peter cuddled up to him, holding tight to the only person he had ever considered his mother, until Tino's body went limp and he was gone.

**XxX**

_"And I want her to look beautiful...if Mama meets Jesus, tonight." -'The Christmas Shoes', Newsong_


End file.
